


I Owe It All to Ryan Seacrest

by PeterM



Category: iCarly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 19:56:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeterM/pseuds/PeterM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carly's life as an adult is no less odd than it was as a teenager.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Owe It All to Ryan Seacrest

**Author's Note:**

> Do not be alarmed at the change in tone. Things aren't always as dire as they might appear.

 

Carly was standing barefoot in front of the refrigerator, pouring herself a glass of water when she noticed the time.

 

"Oh, crap!" She put the pitcher and glass down on the counter and ran out of the kitchen, not even bothering to close the refrigerator.

 

Five seconds later she ran back into the kitchen, put the pitcher back into the fridge and closed the door. Then she raced back out of the kitchen.

 

She entered the living room at full speed and spotted the remote on the back of the couch. Throwing herself into the air, she snagged the remote and landed in a comfortable position on the cushions. She bounced once, but had the TV turned on before she settled. Then it became a waiting game.

 

Modern TVs were wonderful, but the time it took them to warm up or connect or whatever it was they had to do seemed like forever. In the back of her head, Carly always imagined little elves inside the TV, connecting wires like old time switchboard operators. The elves never moved fast enough, damn their pointed ears.

 

“Come on, you stupid elves!” she shouted, just as the picture finally popped into existence. Inside, she was absolutely certain that it was her yelling that had done the job. Outside, she was frantically changing the channel, jabbing the remote at the TV to make it work faster.

 

The channel came in just in time for her to hear, “… All that and more, when iCarly returns in January!” Then came a commercial for the local T-Bo’s Everything On A Stick franchise, now celebrating it’s five year anniversary!

 

“Gah!” Carly exclaimed, throwing the remote across the couch. “Stupid elves and stupid refrigerator made me miss my commercial. Damn all modern technology, and a pox on my energy awareness! A pox, I say!”

 

It’s not like she hadn’t already seen the commercial, of course. But she hadn’t seen it on TV, and she’d been looking forward to it. Almost as much as she was looking forward to resuming taping of her show in the new year.

 

For the thousandth time, she reveled in her good fortune. She, Carly Shay, had a TV talk show! It was on E!, granted, but that still counted as TV! Well, technically. They’d spent years trying to keep iCarly alive, changing its focus as she grew older and her friends and co-workers became less available. It had been easy through college, but had gotten tougher and tougher as she entered the working world as a very low woman on the entertainment totem pole. It was all “Yes, sir,” and “Right away, ma’am,” and “The director would really, really appreciate it if you’d put on some pants, put down the duck and join everyone on set. Pretty please?”

 

Through all of that they’d put out iCarly webisodes whenever they could. They’d lost quite a bit of their original fan-base over the years, but retained a solid core of die-hard fans and gained new converts who liked observing the wacky adventures of a young woman working in Hollywood. Well, sometimes Hollywood. Also Burbank. And Vancouver. Newark had become a big shooting spot over the years, ever since Conan O’Brien lost that bet with the mayor. She’d also gotten to visit more glamorous spots, like New York and Vegas and Rome and Rio. Granted, she’d worked like a dog all through those shoots, but they still counted. She’d still been all those places.

 

And then, finally, it all paid off. After what even she had to admit was probably far too short a time in the trenches, she was finally discovered. In Antarctica, of all places, shooting a bargain basement nature documentary. When the host had been felled by a previously undiagnosed penguin-down allergy, they’d been left with no on-air talent. The director had been forced to ask the crew, all four of them, if anyone had experience in front of a camera.

 

“Uh, I do,” Carly had said, and suddenly she was memorizing lines and facts that she was pretty sure weren’t true. Penguins couldn’t actually contract rabies, could they? That’s what was written, though, so that’s what she said. Her narration made the ensuing footage all the more dramatic, as their small, plucky crew was subjected to the only known incident of penguins attacking humans. No one was badly hurt, beyond some seriously pecked shins and knees, but Carly’s on-camera freak-out as she grappled with a half dozen homicidal birds became an instant internet sensation.

 

Still possessing the instincts of a web star, Carly had immediately put out a special, extra long episode of iCarly entirely devoted to her account of what would become known as The Great Penguin Attack Of 2021. Most viewers agreed that the highlight of the episode was the dramatic recreation of the attack, achieved through the use of a variety of plush toys and a whole lot of jumping around and screaming. Carly’s cries of, “Oh, the humanity!” and “Don’t peck me, bro!” were thought to be especially nice embellishments to the historical record.

 

That episode quickly eclipsed the actual footage of the attack in popularity, and people started to notice Ms. Carly Shay. Important people. Influential people. Including one Ryan Seacrest, who took time out from his ongoing subjugation of all popular culture to pitch his network a talk show aimed at the younger crowd, the people who were used to turning to the internet for their entertainment and news. It was only after he had sold E! on the concept that he had approached Carly, offering terms far more lucrative than she would have been able to get on her own. And he had stood by them during the start-up phase of the show, adding a mentor’s wisdom to their youthful enthusiasm. Carly knew she owed him everything, and it brought tears to her eyes to think that he never got a chance to see the show that he had made possible.

 

“May he rest in peace,” she whispered, wiping at her eyes. Truly, the American Idol Riots would go down as a dark time in America’s history.

 

A new commercial on the television caught her eye, and she smiled. NCIS: Hawaii, with Mr. Gibson Gibson, Esq., portraying the super-popular shirtless detective, Chad Watkins. She was definitely proud of her odd friend, who had achieved success even faster than she had. It was a good show, too, though she was constantly amazed that Miley Cyrus had been cast as the technical wizard. And don’t even get her started on that Emmy Miley had won!

 

She shook her head to clear her mind. It took two extra shakes - it was pretty crowded in there - but finally she was calm, collected and ready to get on with her night. Speaking of, her wool-gathering had put her behind schedule. She didn’t have much time to get everything ready.

 

She left the living room in a brisk walk that took her up the stairs and into the bedroom. She took a deep breath, ready to get to work, but before she could move two strong arms grabbed her from behind.

 

“Don’t move,” was growled into her ear. With one powerful hand over her mouth and both of her arms trapped by her assailant’s other arm, the order was unnecessary. Unnecessary, but definitely frightening.

 

They stood that way for a moment, with Carly pulled back tight against whoever held her captive. She shuddered as she felt hot breath tickle her ear. “Are you going to behave?” the growl asked.

 

Carly frantically nodded her head as much as she could. Her unseen assailant gave her waist a squeeze before letting her go and pushing her forward. Carly stumbled but caught herself, then wheeled to face her captor.

 

The intruder was about her height and build, but extremely intimidating. Dressed all in black leather, with a black mask covering the face and head but leaving the mouth free. The mouth grinned at her and whispered, “Hey there, girlie.”

 

Carly stood very still and took several deep breaths. When she had her heartbeat under control she said, “My husband will be home soon.”

 

“Not worried about him,” the grin said.

 

Carly swallowed and asked, “What do you want?”

 

The grin turned into a leer and growled, “Guess.”

 

“Oh, God,” Carly whispered.

 

“Not quite,” the growl answered, “but thanks for the compliment. Take off your shirt.”

 

Carly stared for a long moment, then asked, “Do I have any choice?”

 

“Not a one. Do it. Now.”

 

Carly raised shaky fingers and began unbuttoning her shirt. With every button the black-clad intruder’s smile grew. Finally Carly’s shirt was entirely undone. She raised her hands to grasp it, then hesitated.

 

“Off,” the growl ordered.

 

Carly shivered, but obeyed. She stood there in her lace bra and shivered again as the intruder’s eyes roamed over her torso. Of their own accord, her fingers moved towards the button of her jeans.

 

“Good girl,” the growl said. “Off.”

 

Carly nodded and undid the button, then slowly pulled the zipper down. She stopped, swallowed. “Do I have to-“

 

“Yes. Off.”

 

Another shiver, and Carly obeyed. In seconds she stood in front of the intruder in her underwear, her jeans pooled at her feet.

 

“Kick them away,” the growl ordered, and she did. “Now turn around.”

 

“Oh, God,” Carly said, but obeyed. She faced away from the intruder, but felt eyes on every inch of her body.

 

“Turn around. Face me.”

 

Carly did. Her eyes grew wide when she saw what the intruder held.

 

“We’re gonna have some fun, aren’t we?” the intruder asked, brandishing two pairs of handcuffs.

 

“What kind of fun?” Carly asked. She was having trouble controlling her breathing.

 

“The best kind,” the growl assured her. “On the bed. Against the headboard.”

 

Carly moved to the bed and sat with her back against the headboard. She watched as the intruder walked slowly towards her, leering all the way. Without being ordered, Carly presented her wrist. The intruder closed the cuff around it gently and Carly felt velvet, then flinched at the harsh click as the other end of the cuff was fastened to the headboard.

 

Carly watched as the intruder stalked around to the other side of the bed. Once again she held out her wrist unbidden. Once again she felt the cuff close on her wrist, then on the headboard. She was trapped. Helpless. She let out a small moan.

 

“That’s what I’m talking about,” the intruder said. “Now we have some fun.”

 

The intruder started to climb onto the bed, but froze when the door slammed downstairs.

 

“Carly! I’m home!” a voice called.

 

Carly looked at the intruder. The intruder looked at Carly, said, “He doesn’t find out I’m here, capisce?” and ducked into the closet, closing the door most of the way.

 

“Oh, that’ll work,” Carly muttered, then jiggled her wrists. “Hello, chained to the bed!”

 

“What’s that, sweetie?” Freddie asked, walking into the room as he pulled his Faber College sweatshirt off. He tossed it into the hamper.

 

“Oh, nothing!” Carly said as she frantically positioned her arms so it appeared they were draped over the headboard rather than fastened to it.

 

“Well then why-“ Freddie began, then abruptly stopped as he turned and caught sight of her mostly naked body sitting on the bed. “Whoa. What brought this on?”

 

“What?” Carly asked with a seductive grin. “A girl can’t welcome her husband home?”

 

Freddie grinned back. “With a welcome home like this I’ll have to leave more often.” He turned back to the dresser and started emptying his pockets.

 

“Was Tyler okay when you left?” Carly asked, maternal concern overcoming the weirdness of the situation.

 

“Oh yeah,” Freddie assured her. “He and Spencer are all set for their He-Man Weekend of Wrestling and Artistry. Spencer said he wants Tyler’s input on that metal statue he’s been working on. When I left he was searching online for a Baby’s First Blow Torch kit.”

 

“What?!” Carly yelled. “He’s two!”

 

“Relax,” Freddie said. “We’re good. No way is he going to find a small enough set of goggles.”

 

“I don’t believe this!” Carly said, and threw her arms into the air.

 

Well, tried to throw her arms into the air.

 

“What the…” Freddie said, with a puzzled expression on his face. “Are you…? You’re handcuffed to the bed?!”

 

“Um, yes?” Carly said, and forced a smile. “What, a girl can’t give her husband a kinky welcome home?” She winced. No way was he going to buy that.

 

“No way do I buy that,” Freddie said. “What the hell is going on here?” He looked around the room, and his eyes zoomed in on the mostly closed closet. “Oh, for crying out loud!”

 

He crossed the room in two big steps and yanked the closet open. The black-clad intruder fell out and sprawled on the floor, then scrambled to stand up.

 

Freddie stared at the intruder. The intruder stared at Freddie. Carly stared at both of them. Nobody moved. Nobody breathed.

 

Then Freddie sighed in exasperation and yanked the intruder’s mask off. A mass of blonde hair tumbled out, framing Sam Puckett’s mildly chagrinned face.

 

“Oh, hey, Freddie,” she said. “When’d you get here?”

 

“When did _I _get here?” Freddie echoed. “When did _you _get here? I thought you were working a job with your cousin Eliot’s crew.”

 

“That ended early,” Sam said. “I decided to come visit.”

 

“Visit?” Freddie said. “Is that what you call it when you show up to molest my wife?”

 

“Yeah, about that,” Sam said. “Have I ever told you you have seriously lousy timing?”

 

“As a matter of fact, you have. The last time I caught you in our bedroom. And the time before that, and the time before that. And so on and so forth, all the way back to our honeymoon!”

 

On the bed, Carly tried to bury her face in her hands. She was, of course, unsuccessful, and settled for closing her eyes.

 

Sam tried a different tactic. “I don’t recall any of that,” she said.

 

“Oh, really?” Freddie asked. Then he brightened. “Hey, does that mean you’re actually Melanie? ‘Cause that would be-“

 

Carly’s eyes shot open and she screamed, “Freddie!” at exactly the same moment Sam slapped him upside the head.****

 

“Guess not,” Freddie said, rubbing his head.

 

“_Now _you believe in Melanie?” Carly demanded.

 

“Seriously,” Sam agreed. “More bad timing, dude.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Freddie said. “Where was I?”

 

“About to forgive us, like you always do?” Carly asked hopefully.

 

Freddie thought for a moment, then shook his head. “No, that’s not it.”

 

“About to join me in molesting your wife, like you always do?” Sam asked hopefully.

 

Freddie nodded. “Closer, but not quite. I think there needs to be some punishment here. I really do.”

 

Carly stared at him in shock. Sam just laughed.

 

“_You _are gonna punish _me_?” Sam asked.

 

“Nah,” Freddie said. “What’s the point? You’re completely incorrigible.”

 

“I am, in fact, incorrigible,” Sam confirmed proudly.

 

“Right,” Freddie agreed. “But Carly is not.”

 

“Wait a minute,” Carly began, but Sam cut her off.

 

“I like where you're going with this. What’d you have in mind, Fredward?”

 

“Now hold on,” Carly said, but Freddie cut her off.

 

“Well,” he said. “She’s handcuffed to the bed, all the way over there. And we’re together, all the way over here. We can do anything we want, for as long as we want, and she can’t do anything.”

 

Sam nodded and smiled. “You always were the brains of the operation,” she said as she started yanking her clothes off.

 

Freddie started removing his own clothes, and his gaze met Carly’s. They stared at each other, husband and wife, communicating with their eyes, and Carly knew she wasn’t going to win this one. She leaned back against the headboard. It was going to be a long night. But a good one.

 


End file.
